


i'll be yours and you'll be mine

by sunsetozier



Series: tumblr prompts [10]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Prompt Fill, a very weird au, ben and bill are in love!!!, i did a lot of worldbuilding for some reason and now i want to make this a series, mikeverly deserves love!!!!!, streddie is fucking cute as fuck!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 06:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetozier/pseuds/sunsetozier
Summary: Ben can’t help it.He starts to laugh.“I don’t think I’m capable of being done with you, Bill Denbrough,” he says through an airy little giggle, the sound much too light for the heaviness of what he just admitted, and Bill finally looks at him then, kind of shell shocked and alarmed and unsure, a mixture of emotions wrapped in a pretty bow and reflecting in his eyes. God, hiseyes.Ben sure does love his eyes.-Ben and Bill can't be together. Yet, despite the rules, they are.





	i'll be yours and you'll be mine

**Author's Note:**

> an anon asked for numbers 41 and 58 for kissing prompts, which are:
> 
> **41.** forbidden kiss  
>  **58.** moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed
> 
> i kind of want to make a series out of this universe, but idk how to approach it and what to make it really about, so for now this is all

            Ben’s in the middle of organizing a section of the library when he feels a hand clamp around his wrist and tug him down the aisle and towards the darkest corner of the room — the one that hardly anyone looks at, let alone goes to. For a moment, he wants to let out a yelp of surprise, but he knows exactly who it is and knows that making a sound before they’re more secluded could end in disaster.

            By the time they come to a stop, Ben’s thundering heart has already slowed to a normal speed, and he tears his arm out of the grip still on him, rubbing his thumb over his wrist as he grumbles, “You need to stop doing this. You’re gonna get us killed.”

            A hand reaches forward, gingerly tugs at Ben’s arm to look at his wrist, fingertips lightly skating over the skin there. “D-Did I huh-hurt you? I truh-tried to be gentle, I p-pruh-promise. I was juh-just in a hurry.”

            “No,” Ben murmurs, and he considers pulling away again, but Bill’s touch has always been soothing to him, no matter how much of a problem that tends to bring. “Just scared me.”

            “I’m suh-sorry,” Bill whispers, almost like a secret, as he raises Ben’s arm to press a shallow kiss to the inside of his wrist. Ben wants to point out that he really is fine, but it’s not often that he allows himself to indulge in the affection that comes from them sneaking around, no matter how dangerous the two of them even looking in each other’s general direction could be. Danger be damned, Ben supposes. This corner of the library tends to feel like a whole other world, free from human eyes and wars and the threat of injury.

            The only safer place than this is the clubhouse, hidden beneath the leaves and shrubbery that Mike and Ben placed over the door to keep it hidden from wandering souls. Making it to the clubhouse is just a bit less common these days.

            Ben doesn’t think he’s visited the clubhouse in a few months. According to Stan, him, Eddie and Richie still go there on a daily basis, and Beverly stops by often when Mike is able to help keep her hidden from public eye, usually in the dark of night when people aren’t looking out their windows and sneaking through backyards and avoiding light is much easier. He isn’t sure if Bill still goes there. He hasn’t really asked, hasn’t had the chance since…

            “What’s this for?” Ben asks, finally pulling his wrist free from Bill’s gentle grasp, though he’s kind of reluctant to do so. They may be pretty safe here, but tempting fate is never a good idea. “You said you were in a hurry. Did something happen? Is anyone hurt?”

            Bill shakes his head, holds his hands out for a moment like he’s considering initiating another point of contact, then lets them fall to his sides. “No,” he breathes out, briefly scanning around them to make sure there’s no one near. The only other person in this library is Mike, though, and assuming that Mike saw Bill come in, he’ll be doing whatever he can to avoid them being seen by anyone passing by. Satisfied, Bill looks back to Ben, takes a shuffled step closer, and timidly tells him, “I’ve muh-missed you.”

            Oh, and that’s playing with fire, Ben knows. Meeting Bill’s gaze and seeing a concoction of heat and love and want and need stirred into his blue eyes, feeling his heart sink and his gut twist… but they can’t, not anymore. They got careless, cocky, and while Ben had managed to scramble away in time to avoid being seen, Bill’s rumpled clothes and bruised lips had been more than enough to explain what had been happening. It only got worse when Bill insisted it was a random girl who lives in the rich neighborhood, someone who comes from a family of money, someone he isn’t strictly forbidden to associate with.

            Bill’s a good liar, but his parents hadn’t believed him enough to let it slide. Apparently, just to be safe, they’d gone through with a punishment anyway — not as severe of a punishment as the one Bill would have gotten had he been caught with a lower class boy such as Ben, but a punishment nonetheless, to remind him of who he is, of his family, of how he needs to have his head screwed in straight when he inevitably takes over the responsibilities of his father. When he becomes the strongest, most powerful person in this city. When someone like Ben could only hold him back.

            “You can’t miss me,” Ben tells him, and he hates how thick his voice is, how close he already feels to tears just from that sentence alone. “Bill, you’re- this is dangerous, okay? You’ve already gotten hurt, and if they ever find out that you’ve even been talking to me, I’d—“

            “If they ever fuh-find out about you, thuh-then we’re p-puh-packing a bag and getting the fuh-fuck out of here,” Bill interrupts sternly, taking another shuffled step forward, leaving only a few inches of space between them. Ben sucks in his lower lip and looks away, fear coiling in his gut, but Bill reaches forward and light pulls Ben’s lip free from between his teeth before he can bite down hard enough to draw blood. “Muh-Maybe,” Bill starts, much softer, “we can d-do that anyway. Luh-Leave, you know? With everyone. Be suh-safe. Free.”

            If Ben thought they were playing with fire before, now it’s a hurricane, swirling above them and sending his world topsy-turvy, making his head spin and his heart stop. Before he can think of a response, though he’s not sure he’s capable of coming up with one, Mike is there, one hand on Bill’s shoulder and one hand on Ben’s, saying, “Time’s up, guys.”

            Ben looks at Bill, and Bill looks at him. “Clubhouse,” Ben states after a moment, taking a little step back and trying to breathe, though his lungs don’t seem very keen on cooperating with him, not expanding as much as he wants, aching with each attempt at an inhale. “Eleven o’clock.”

            And Bill looks kind of afraid, in a way that a Denbrough never should, but he still nods. “Yuh-Yeah. Okay. I’ll b-buh-be there.”

 

 

 

 

            At first glance, Derry appears fairly normal – a city that was once just a town but has expanded far too much to be considered so small. People who pass through seem pleased by their experience, often complimenting the aura, the homeliness, the way it feels so comfortable and nice. People who live in Derry, however, have a completely different story, because Derry is, for lack of a better word, a constant war zone between families and classes based on generations and generations of hatred and fighting. When Ben moved here at the age of eleven, he didn’t know what to make of the snobby rich kids who threatened murder and actually meant it, because they knew the cops were friends of their families and would curb the law to avoid them being arrested.

            The biggest family in Derry, the one with all the power, the one that makes everyone else tremble in fear, is the Denbrough’s. They’re mean people, they are, yet they have two of the sweetest kids the world has ever seen - giddy, excited, happy Georgie, and soft-spoken, horrendously loyal, willing to die for the people he loves Bill. On his first day of school, Bill had said hello to him and offered to show him around, and Ben was happy that someone was showing him some basic kindness after seeing the horrors in the halls. He had feared that the threats would be thrown at him, but was pleasantly surprised by the people he met and soon called his friends.

            However, once middle school ended and high school began, Bill being kind was no longer acceptable to his parents. For a long time, they considered it a childish act, something caused by him being so young, and it wouldn’t slide any longer. Suddenly, Bill stopped saying hi to him in the hallway, and all the friends they had started ignoring each other in order to stick to the class of people they were supposed to associate with, that they belonged to. The only person Ben could talk to without being sneered at was Mike, and sometimes Beverly, though Beverly wasn’t at school that often due to the way her father controlled her, made her stay home. Everyone in town knew of the Marsh’s dynamic, knew that daughters were more like servants and fathers were the ones in charge. Ben doesn’t understand how the people of Derry can turn such an intentional blind eye to the horrid ways of this place, how they can see a bruised Beverly limp down the street and avoid looking at her because Alvin Marsh has decided she’s less than a human and every single person is afraid to go against his word.

            At the age of fourteen, Ben couldn’t handle seeing his closest friends be torn apart by stupid traditions and conflicts that feel far too old fashioned to exist in this day and age. He’d talked about it with Mike a lot, whined and cried about how much he hated it, how much it scared him that they were being forced to hurt each other and couldn’t do anything about it. There had been a day, a very vivid and specific day, where Ben had walked down the hall, turned the corner, and saw Richie sprawled on the floor with a busted lip, Stan sitting beside him and cupping a bloody nose, while Eddie stood above them, hand curled into a fist and a battle of sorrow, guilt, and determination in his eyes.

            He had to do it, they all know that. Stan and Richie are lower class, their families living from paycheck to paycheck, and in Derry, money is power, and they are powerless. Eddie is upper class, as is Bill, and as members of the upper class, they’re required to assert their dominance, to show the power their families hold. While Stan bumping into Eddie while deep in conversation with Richie had been an accident, the hall had gone silent in anticipation, and Eddie knew that doing nothing would only serve to get his ass chewed out the moment he got home.

            Ben almost stepped forward, almost interfered, but that was a rare day where Beverly was at school - the Marsh’s are upper class, too, but because she’s considered less than, she can’t be seen with the upper class kids, and tends to freely wander from middle class to lower class, mostly to spend her time with Ben and Mike or Stan and Richie, whoever is available - and she had pulled him back, shook her head, and told him, “Don’t. You’ll get yourself killed.”

            Stan had a broken nose and Richie didn’t really look the same for the next two weeks, but there was nothing they could do about it. Ben had tried to approach them, had tried to offer any help he could, but the fact is that he’s a middle class kid and they’re not, and Mike had pulled him away before he could do something to make the situation worse.

            That had been the last straw.

            The clubhouse had been a vague idea when Ben thought of it, just an idea to get them a place where they could be friends again, hidden from the view of the public and able to be themselves. He had not clue what it should be or how to make it a reality, but he went to Mike, explained his thoughts, and together, they came with something that could work. It took a few days of work, of sneaking out of their houses at night and meeting up in a secluded part of the barrens, of digging up dirt and placing wood panels and trying and failing until they had something stable, something accessible. They covered the top, left a large bundle of daisies above the door to show where it was, and went to school the next day with a pep in their step, knowing that they had created something monumental.

            Getting the word out to the others hadn’t been too hard, thanks to Beverly. She isn’t supposed to talk to upper class kids, but she’s able to get away with it from time to time, and she had no problem locating Bill and Eddie in the hall to tell them where to go and at what time, while Ben found Stan and Richie at lunch to do the same. From there, it was only a waiting game to see who would show up that night and who would ignore the attempt to bring them together again.

            In the end, they all showed up, looking kind of timid and unsure as they approached Ben and Mike in the little field that they had built the clubhouse in. First it was Beverly, thin and frail looking but with a fire in her eyes that not even her father or this place could distinguish, and she had only grinned at Ben, offered some kind of joking salute to Mike, and make her way into the clubhouse to wait for the others. Then it was Richie and Stan, walking side by side with their hands clutched together and pale faces, though they seemed to relax when they saw that Eddie and Bill weren’t there yet. Ben was expecting them to show up together, but when Bill arrived, Eddie was no where to be seen, and all Bill had done was offered a half-smile, eyes lingering momentarily on Ben, before going into the clubhouse at well. Mike followed after, but Ben waited to see if Eddie would show, not wanting to give up on him quite yet – and for good reason, because, fifteen minutes later or not, Eddie appeared eventually, looking like he ran the entire way and in dire need of a new shirt, as his seemed to get smudged with dirt and rumpled by bushes and tree branches on the journey here. Ben let out a sigh of relief, but didn’t get the chance to greet him before Eddie was clambering into the clubhouse with tears in his eyes and his jaw clenched. Worried, Ben followed after, fearing the worst, but Eddie was immediately on his knees in front of Stan and Richie and blubbering with apologies, hiccups and sobs making his shoulders shake.

            It was in this clubhouse that Stan grabbed Eddie by the face and kissed him quiet. It was in this clubhouse that Eddie curled into Richie’s side and cried about how much he hated himself for hurting them. It was in this clubhouse that they confessed their feelings. It was in this clubhouse that Beverly let Mike create a make-shift splint for her broken finger when her parents refused to take her to a hospital and made it clear that the hospital staff would not only refuse treatment if she showed up, but would tell them that she tried to defy them. It was in this clubhouse that they flourished and loved and grew.

            It was in this clubhouse that Bill had kissed Ben for the first time.

            Ben doesn’t want to think about that right now, though, so he doesn’t. He only lulls his head to the side and watches with a strained fondness as Eddie plays with Stan’s fingers and laugh loudly to something that Richie is saying. Mike is sitting by them, listening to whatever it is they’re talking about, while Beverly naps against his shoulder – she’d made it out tonight. Rare, but good. It’s as he’s watching them that he hears a voice in his mind, a little whisper in the back of his head – one that sounds like Bill, repeating what he had said, what he had suggested, almost like a taunt of sorts.

            _Maybe we can do that anyway. Leave. Be safe. Free._

            What was Bill trying to say? That they should leave? It’s not that simple. As much as Ben wishes it was, Bill is part of a very important family, and Eddie’s mother would do everything in her power to track him down. They’d be dragged back by their hair. Escape is ideal, but it’s next to impossible.

            The rest of them can leave with little to no struggle, having no real power in a place like this, but Eddie and Bill? They’re expected to stay here, to live here, to die here.

            He looks again, sees Richie press a giggly kiss to Stan’s cheek as Eddie watches them with a lovestruck smile, and he wonders how that’s going to work. Will Richie and Stan stay here, poor and struggling and considered low life and unimportant due to their lack of wealth, or will Eddie give the whole running away thing a try? Or, maybe, they’ll give each other up entirely, because upper class people and lower class people just aren’t meant to be together when you’re from Derry. That thought makes him sad, because they look so happy, the three of them. Then again, Ben knows he looked pretty happy, too, before him and Bill were almost caught.

            Is this level of love and happiness worth the fear and danger that comes with trying to escape?

            A whistle breaks through Ben’s thoughts, drawing his attention to the real world, and he finds everyone – save for Beverly, who is still sleeping soundly – looking up at the door of the clubhouse. Ben already knows who it is, knows that there’s only one person it could be, but he breath is still stolen by the sight of Bill smiling down at them with the starry night sky behind him. Before Ben can become too enraptured by the sight, Bill jumps in, pulling the door shut above him, and casually plops himself next to Ben as Richie exclaims, “Ho-lee _shit!_ It’s been a hot fucking minutes since we’ve seen both of you at the same time. To what do we owe this momentous occasion?”

            It’s a funny question, makes everyone chuckle, but it’s kind of loaded, too, because they all know what happened. They all know that Bill sported a black eye and a limp for weeks after nearly being caught with Ben in his bed. They all know that Ben’s been avoiding Bill like the plague while Bill has done nothing but try to contact him, to talk to him, even going as far as trying to catch his eye across the cafeteria or from the other side of their classrooms. Before either Ben or Bill can think of a response, Eddie is rolling his eyes and murmuring, “Not our business, Richie.”

            “He’s right,” Stan agrees, already getting to his feet despite the protests of both his boyfriends. “Besides, it’s late, so we have to go, anyway. In case you’ve forgotten, my parents don’t trust me after the last time I got caught sneaking out because I wanted to spend time with you two, and if I get caught again, they’re gonna put bars on my window or something crazy like that.”

            “Oh, well, I can show you how to get around that,” Eddie shrugs, drawing out more snickers, though they know he isn’t joking – his window has been boarded up for years. The only reason he’s able to sneak out is because his house is big enough to make it out the back door without being seen and his mother just doesn’t have the energy to check on him anymore, so he can stay out as long as he wants so long as he’s home by the time his alarm goes off in the morning.

            Richie pouts dramatically as Stan pulls him to his feet, but he doesn’t resist, only throwing Ben and Bill a somewhat knowing look and saying, “Don’t leave a mess,” before Stan is pushing open the door and climbing out, Richie and Eddie both following after. Faintly, they can hear Richie grumble something about how they’re eighteen and shouldn’t be scared of their parents anymore, but their footsteps fade away before they can hear whatever Stan and Eddie say in response.

            Mike is already shaking Beverly awake when Ben looks over at him, feeling kind of desperate to postpone the talk that him and Bill are sure to be having once they’re left alone. Of course, Mike is a firm believer in facing problems head on, and only shoots them a supporting grin and tells them to, “Talk it out,” before he’s helping a sleepy Beverly out of the clubhouse, the door shutting behind them and leaving them completely and utterly alone.

            For a moment, Ben forgets to breathe, but Bill grabs his hands and his chest loosens, just a little bit.

            “Hey,” Bill starts in a whisper, and it feels like more of an excuse to break the silence before it gets too suffocating. Ben doesn’t like how casual it sounds, and squeezes Bill’s hand once rather than offering a greeting of his own. Thankfully, Bill has always been fairly good at reading him, understanding what he wants and what he can’t quite say, so he doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t try to make small talk. He only clears his throat, turns his head to stare at the ceiling of the clubhouse, illuminated only by one of the many flashlights they keep in here to light the room during the night, and he says, “So, I think wuh-what I said was a l-luh-luh-little… too muh-much.”

            “Which part?” Ben asks, though he’s fairly certain the clarification isn’t necessary.

            Bill doesn’t mind, though, quickly answering, “The luh-leaving part.”

            Slowly, Ben nods, and he kind of wants to look at Bill, wants to admire how soft his features look in the soft lighting, wants to trace a pattern on the back of his hand and lean into his touch, but he doesn’t. He can’t stop thinking about the risks and the rewards, can’t help but wonder if it’s really worth it. God, he wants it to be worth it, wants to be unafraid and determined, but that’s not who he is, that’s now how he works. Letting out a little sigh, he finally responds, voice soft but unbearably loud in the confined space as he admits, “I wouldn’t be against leaving. I just… I don’t think it’s possible.”

            “I’ll muh-make it possible,” Bill promises, the kind of promise he always makes – the ones that he can’t keep, no matter how badly he wants to. Sadly, Ben just shakes his head, but Bill goes on, determination laced in his words as he says, “I mean it, Ben. I’ll fuh-figure it out. Upper cluh-class kids make it out all the t-tuh-time. All I nuh-need to do is fuh-find the right people to help.”

            “Upper class kids make it out,” Ben agrees, though the _all the time_ part is very much untrue. It’s a rarity for upper class kids to truly be free from their ties in Derry, and more often than not they wind up moving back in their mid-twenties to continue where they left off. “But Denbrough’s don’t.”

            He thinks it makes sense, the meaning behind his words, but he apparently presses a button that he didn’t even know was there, as Bill is quickly on his feet, crossing to the other side of the space and leaning his shoulder against the wall there, jaw clenched and back angled towards Ben. There’s tension in his shoulders, a tautness to his demeanor that hadn’t been there before. Ben slowly gets to his feet as well, but makes no move to approach him, waiting patiently until Bill is able to piece his words together and ask, “Is thuh-that it, then? Is my fuh-family the ruh-reason why you d-duh-don’t want to be with me?”

            That is, Ben thinks, the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. He almost says as such, but settles on slowly asking, “You think I don’t want to be with you?”

            “Yuh-Yeah,” Bill nods, though he doesn’t turn around quite yet, doesn’t try to face Ben. He only stands there, the very definition of tense, as he says, “You’ve buh-been avoiding me, you said I c-cuh-can’t miss you, and I… I thuh-thought it was juh-just to be careful, you know? B-Because we almost got caught. But you suh-sounded so _serious_ , and you almost looked angry, and I cuh-can’t figure out another ruh-reason other than you’re d-duh-done with me.”

            Ben can’t help it.

            He starts to laugh.

            “I don’t think I’m capable of being done with you, Bill Denbrough,” he says through an airy little giggle, the sound much too light for the heaviness of what he just admitted, and Bill finally looks at him then, kind of shell shocked and alarmed and unsure, a mixture of emotions wrapped in a pretty bow and reflecting in his eyes. God, his _eyes._ Ben sure does love his eyes.

            “Then why…?” Bill trails off, swallows roughly, unable to get the rest of his question out.

            Ben shakes his head, takes a small step forward and tries to resist the urge to close the space between them completely. “Because you got _hurt,_ Bill,” he says softly, tears already burning the backs of his eyes just by saying it. “You got hurt because of me. Because you’re with me and you have to hide it. Because we weren’t careful enough to realize your parents were home early. You got hurt and I couldn’t do anything about it, and I can’t… I can’t let you get hurt because of me again.”

            For a long moment, Bill only stares at him, expression equal parts vulnerable and steeled over as Ben fails to blink away the tears gathering in his tear ducts. He thinks Bill is going to nod, say something reassuring and gentle and kind, and that will be that, but then Bill rushes forward and pushes Ben back – not harshly, per se, but with enough force to have him hit the wall with a noise of surprise that Bill swallows as he seals their lips together in a kiss that’s pure heat and adrenaline and energy.

            “Bill,” Ben tries to protest, leaning back, but his resolve started crumbling the moment Bill grabbed his hand when he got here, and any other attempt to bring a stop to this wind up dying in the back of his throat when Bill kisses him again. They need to talk, they really do – there are so many uncertainties, so many things they haven’t properly discussed. They still need to dissect Bill’s proposition to run away, all seven of them, and they need to figure out what running away would mean.

            But talking is hard, and maybe kissing is harder but it feels much easier than finding the right words, so Ben only pushes at Bill’s shoulder, flips them around to press Bill against the wall and kiss him deeper, harder, quicker. It’s messy, and it’s out of control, and it’s sure to leave their lips a little bit swollen for at least a few hours, but god, Ben really missed kissing him.

            Eventually, however, Bill pulls back, just enough to suck in a sharp breath and grit out, “If I guh-get hurt, that’s muh-muh- _my_ problem, and it’s _n-nuh-not_ your fault. What huh-happens to muh-me is nothing compared to wuh-what would happen to yuh-you if they fuh-figure it out.” Ben isn’t sure if that’s meant to be comforting or not, but Bill flips them again, pushes Ben against the wall and runs his hands beneath Ben’s shirt to flatten his fingers over the bare skin there and kiss Ben a little bit softer, a little more brisk. When he pulls away a second time, it’s with something dangerous and heartbreaking in his eyes, and his words catch and sound like a secret that no one was ever meant to hear when he whispers, “If muh-my choice is between me guh-getting hurt and you getting… f-fuh-fucking _killed,_ then I’ll take the p-pain. Okay?”

            Ben wants to say that it’s an exaggeration, wants to say that his life isn’t in danger over something as silly as this, but he knows he can’t do that. He knows how often lower and middle class people go missing when they try to engage in relationships with someone from the upper class. He knows that there are people who wouldn’t hesitate to make him disappear if they knew how many times he’s been chest to chest, nose to nose, lips to lips with the eldest Denbrough son – the son that’s supposed to inherit the power, to keep the Denbrough’s at the top of the food chain. He knows, and he’s known all along, but knowing it and hearing it are two very different things.

            Knowing it and _fearing_ it are two very, _very_ different things.

            “I just—” Ben cuts off, and he thinks he’s crying a little, but he can’t be bothered to care as his gaze dances between Bill’s blue eyes, seeing the way they shimmer. He shakes his head again, on the brink of speechlessness, and murmurs, “I can’t- I can’t just let you get hurt like that. I _can’t.”_

            “Then wuh-we’ll be more careful,” Bill supplies without a moment of hesitation, curving his hands around Ben’s hip and splaying them over his spine to push them closer together, noses bumping into each other due to their close proximity. “And, wuh-when we can, we’ll get out of here. All of us.”

            That’s the part Ben wants to question, because he wants to know _how,_ but he doesn’t ask, not right now. He’ll get the chance to ask later, he knows, and Bill will answer any question he has. For now, the questions can wait, because Bill is looking at him like he’s the sun and Ben knows that Bill is his moon and all he can really bring himself to do is kiss him again and hope that he’ll never have to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think!! and, as always, feel free to hmu on tumblr @ lo-v-ers !!


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